


one way or another

by Anonymous



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consent Issues, Dream Sex, Face-Fucking, Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Objectification, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Thompson can't get Callum out of his head. He's even haunting his dreams.[Or: Thompson has a sex dream about Callum.Set the day before Thompson ruined Callum's surprise breakfast for Ben.]
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/DI Steve Thompson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	one way or another

**Author's Note:**

> Thompson has a sex dream about Callum in which the sex is consensual. 
> 
> **Warnings** The q slur is used. Power imbalances, objectification, homophobia, public masturbation in a locked toilet cubicle, the sex depicted in the dream is rough and not how safe, consensual anal sex should go down, threats, rape in prison is briefly and vaguely alluded to.
> 
> [Spoilers] Thompson steals an item of clothing from Callum and masturbates using it.

Thompson knew it was going to be a good day when Callum arrived at the station with a holdall in hand and his face flushed pink. 

“Been to the gym, Highway?”

“Yes Sir, I really missed it over lockdown, ya know?”

Thompson nods, he doesn't know and he doesn't care. He watches as Callum heads off to go change into his uniform and hatches a plan. 

He sends the rookie out on a nothing little job, some old biddy had her purse stolen and he tells Callum to get a statement, give her the personal touch since there’s no chance in hell that she’s getting it back. As soon as he’s gone, Thompson goes directly to his locker, he knows the code because Callum is too trusting, too naïve to try and conceal it, even with his superior’s eyes on him.

The locker pops open and Thompson checks around him to make sure there's nobody around because unlike the rookie, he's not fucking stupid. Assured that he's alone, he unzips the holdall and roots out Callum’s gym shorts. 

Fuck. They're still damp with sweat. He holds them to his face and sways slightly, overwhelmed by the heady scent. He knows it won't be long before somebody walks in so he pushes the shorts into a carrier bag he had scrunched in his pocket and leaves everything else as he found it. 

After that all he can think about are those shorts. It doesn’t help that Callum is a complete fucking tease, bringing him a coffee _just how you like it_ and licking those perfect pink lips whenever he feels Thompson’s eyes on him.

By lunchtime he can’t take it anymore, the thought of the shorts in his desk is fucking torture and he has no choice but to slip into the toilets. He locks the cubicle and opens his trousers with shaking hands and bringing the crotch to his face to _inhale_ , spilling hot cum over his fist in under a minute with the image of Callum in nothing _but_ them on his knees, dripping wet with sweat because he’s burning with desire, so hungry for his cock. 

When he gets home, the first thing he does is rush upstairs and strip down to nothing so he can slide between the cool bed sheets and stroke his aching cock with the rookie’s shorts draped over his face. 

That fucking slut would love to know the affect he was having on his superior. Callum's smell all around him wakes his body up, even his own hand feels fucking amazing. The thrill of having stolen them and the intimate, carnal knowledge that this smell provides him with drives him wild. 

When the sheets brush over the head of his dick he imagines it’s Callum’s sweet tongue and he can't take it anymore, he starts to shake and grunt. A man like Callum would know what to do with his mouth, he'd be so eager to please, so hungry for it, so desperate.

He comes so hard he _tastes_ the metallic heat of it.

He could kill Callum for what he’s done to him.

But it’s out of his system, for tonight at least or that's what he tells himself anyway. It’s the rookie’s day off tomorrow so he won’t be around to torture him and he can finally catch his breath. His more repulsive qualities, his insubordination and his loyalty to the Mitchells are the ones he'll focus on until the heat in his belly subsides. 

He rams Callum's shorts back in the carrier bag and dumps them in the kitchen bin. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Before he settles for the night, he changes his sheets before not wanting any reminders of earlier and when he turns out the light, he forces himself to think of something, _anything_ else. 

But it doesn't work. It doesn't help. 

And there's nothing he can do to control his dreams. 

Despite his best efforts, he finds himself in a familiar setting. He’s standing in the hallway outside his bedroom and he’s burning up because he knows what’s behind the closed door in front of him. Right in front of him. All he has to do is reach out and turn the door knob and he'll find the thing he's been longing to get control over completely at his mercy. 

Every time he finds himself here, he hesitates because he knows, he _knows_ this is letting Highway win and yet every time he turns the handle anyway. 

When he wakes he has to admit to himself that he would do it in reality too, he can't deny it as much as he'd like to pretend otherwise. 

The room is softly lit and on his bed is a vision, one that is always subtly different but tonight it’s something he won’t ever forget. 

Callum is handcuffed to his bed, his arms outstretched over his head, the cuffs just a little too tight and leaving red rings around his wrists, just how Callum likes it. He’s certain Callum is the kind of man who likes a bit of pain, the kind of man who'll wear the marks his lovers leave on his skin with pride. 

“Have you been waiting long?” Thompson asks.

“I think so, Sir. Time always drags when you ain't around."

“Have you been missing me?”

Callum licks his lips. “Always, Sir.”

"Good boy," he says in a low, low tone, arousal colouring his voice already. 

There’s something about his hands dangling uselessly over the rim of the cuffs that makes Thompson's mouth water and yet his eyes are drawn downwards to the way his arms are trembling from the strain of the position. He's clearly struggling and yet he doesn't complain, maybe he even enjoys it. Thompson doesn't care either way. 

The day Callum was assigned his uniform, Thompson strolled into the locker room while he was changing, ostensibly to check up on him and found Callum in boxers and a pair of white socks. That image was burned into his memory and it served as a blueprint for this and every other dream he’d had since. 

There were the three moles: one on his sternum, the other between his perfect tits and the third on his flat stomach forming a constellation along with a smattering of freckles. Then there was a trail of dark hair from his belly button down, growing thicker where it disappeared under his waistband. He'd let his gaze linger on those thick thighs, toned and yet still soft and grabbable. But best of all was the outline of his cock visible through his boxers, it was huge and thick and his balls swung when he turned to cover himself. Callum had been the one to apologise, turning into his locker as if he could climb inside it and disappear but his actions only served to give Thompson a view of his gorgeous arse, pert and inviting. 

Thompson hadn’t been able to get the image of his cock out of his head and had made excuses to stand next to Highway at the urinal just to catch another glimpse. He wasn't aroused by it but he was fascinated and when he finally got to see it up close and in all its glory he was obsessed with the way it sat heavy in his big hand. To think that a man who was carrying something like that, who had so much power in his body alone would bend over for a fucking Mitchell. 

But at least tonight, in his dreams, the rookie was hard for _him_ , that obscene cock leaking and bobbing, begging to be touched, his body revealing his slutty nature without him even having to open his mouth.

Thompson stops to take him in. 

There's a sheen of sweat across his broad chest that glistens even in the low lamplight and his heaving breath makes the soft flesh that surrounds his nipples shake.

His thick thighs are parted wide by a spreader bar with leather cuffs buckled around his ankles only serving to accentuate his taught calves. There’s a shake in thighs and his toes curl when Thompson casts his gaze downwards and he wonders about the kind of man who would take such pleasure just in being watched. A man like that is easy to unravel. 

He’s part angel, part wanton slut lying there on the bed with his thighs thrown wider even than the span of the bar. 

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Sir. I _need_ you."

Thompson kneels up on the bed and trails his hand along Callum's body, enjoying the way it makes him tremble and twitch. 

"How do you need me?"

"In every way." Thompson looks up into his brilliant blue eyes and then glances down to his plump lips. "Yes, do it, Sir, _please._ "

"Do what?"

Thompson's eyes flit back up to Callum's and the rookie's skin starts to heat under his gaze. 

"I want.. I _need_ you to fuck my face, Sir, I need your cock in my mouth."

He chuckles warmly. He knows he shouldn't encourage this shit but he can't resist. 

"I'm happy to oblige just this once. Did you shave your face just for me, boy?"

He nods eagerly. "Yes Sir."

It makes Thompson's heart flip, Callum knows he doesn't like to feel his stubble, only queers like that shit, filthy deviants revelling in the feel of another man but not him. And the slut laid out in front of him may not be capable of understanding or respecting that but he is hungry for cock and desperate to please and he can't help but find that strangely endearing. 

Thompson stands off the bed and removes his clothes before climbing over Callum and straddling his chest. He leans forward and Callum laps at the head of his cock, moaning softly at the first taste. 

He's only half hard but it doesn't take much of feeling the rookie squirm beneath him in anticipation of his cock before he's ready. 

It feels wrong but the good, hot kind of wrong as he pushes his cock into Callum's hot, wet mouth. He looks down at him, his skin bright red all the way to the tips of his ears, his lips stretched wide in a perfect O around his cock and his eyes rolling back with pleasure. 

He nearly loses it when he hits the tight ring of Callum's throat. He doesn't falter even as Thompson pushes beyond it, the pressure and the heat almost unbearable as his cock slides down his throat. 

Never in all his days has he met a woman who could take a cock like Highway, but they didn't have his voracious hunger for it. 

Callum's hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat and if Thompson were his lover, he'd sweep it back and cup his face but he isn't, he's his superior so instead he grabs a fistful of it and yanks, hard. 

"You like that you fucking whore?"

Callum tries to nod, he's breathing harshly through his nose, his nostrils flaring wildly and Thompson wonders if he'd pass out before he'd stop. 

He starts to pull back and Callum hollows his cheeks and sucks like his life depends on it which it does, in a way and fuck it feels incredible. He can see why men seek out the company of other men if it's always like _this_. His cock pops free and a string of drool connects the tip to Callum's swollen lips. 

Grabbing hold of the headboard Thompson drives forward again all the way to the back of Callum's throat and thrusts in and out, sometimes allowing the head of his cock to pop free of his pretty mouth just to see the way Highway strains to sit up, desperate for more. 

He pounds hard until the room is filled with Callum's muffled moans and whimpers. Callum's throat opens up for him as he slams into it and he glances up to see the rookie's fists clenched and turning white, struggling to take Thompson's relentless pounding, willing to pass out from lack of oxygen to please him. His wet mouth feels amazing, better than any pussy and he can't bring himself to stop. 

Callum's moans become strangled and Thompson turns his attention back to his face and watches as beads of sweat trickle over his cheeks. No, fuck. Those are _tears_.

He snaps his hips, trying not to lose his rhythm at the sight of his pupils blown black and big fat tears rolling over his round cherubim cheeks. He's beautiful. 

The thought snaps him out of his rhythm. He rocks back on his heels and his cock pops free much to Callum's surprise and disappointment. He sits there sniffling pathetically, his face smeared with sweat and drool and tears.

"Did I.. was it…" His voice is wrecked and he's panting for breath, he's almost completely unable to speak. Thompson waits as patiently as he can for him to pull himself together. "Was it not good?" 

The earnestness in his voice makes Thompson soften. 

"You, my boy, are a natural born cocksucker." Callum breaks out in a broad smile. "But it ain't just your face I wanna fuck tonight."

"Thank you, Sir," he rasps.

Thompson shuffles down Callum's body and grasps hold of his perfect tits, squeezing as hard as he can just to make Callum squirm. 

"You like that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dirty boy."

Callum moans loud enough for the neighbours to hear as he squeezes again and his dick sways and spits out a string of precum. Thompson can't help but laugh. 

"Alright, let's get you turned over." 

Callum whimpers and rattles his handcuffs with pleading eyes. God, he almost feels sorry for him. 

Thompson retrieves the key as quickly as he can and lays Callum's arms by his sides before helping him onto his front. 

"Hands behind your back," he barks and Callum obeys without a moment's hesitation and although he struggles to lift his numb arms he manages it anyway through sheer dedication to his superior. If only he kept this attitude up all the time. 

He slips the handcuffs on again and clicks them tight, eliciting a deep groan from the rookie. 

When he's done he slips off the bed to admire the view. The spreader bar renders him helpless, his thighs held apart for Thompson to fit between but he reckons the rookie doesn't need any encouragement to open his legs. Then there's his arse, plump and peachy, perfectly rounded and so enticing and fuck, he hates how much he wants him. 

"Hands behind your back, legs apart," he shouts loud enough to make the lad jump. 

Callum has no choice in the matter, this is merely a formality but he stiffens his limbs and straightens his back regardless to show willing. 

"I reckon you've got something I've been looking for," Thompson growls. 

"No, Sir."

He trails his fingers along Callum's inner thighs and is impressed with his resolve when he manages to hold firm but he shudders when Thompson kneads his arse cheeks. 

"Tell me and I'll go easy on you."

"I.. I don't know what you mean, Sir, please" Callum sobs.

He palms his way down Callum's legs and pretends not to see how he grinds his hips into the mattress, he's not here tonight to be punished for his sexual proclivities so he'll let it go. 

"If you won't co-operate willingly, believe me when I say I have ways to make you talk."

He raises his hand and brings it down to slap Callum's arse with the flat of it. The loud crack is the only sound in the room, Callum is too stunned to react. Thompson lifts his hand again, loving the way Callum's arse wobbles when hit and smacks hard in the same spot this time drawing a gasp from the rookie. He does it five more times, grunting with the effort of it but rewarded with a sweet chorus of _Oh, oh, ohs_ from Callum. He knew he loved pain, why else would he be in bed with the Mitchells. 

When he stops he sees Callum's skin turning the most beautiful shade of puce and he can't hold back anymore. He leans over and spreads Callum's arse cheeks before dribbling spit over his impossibly tight hole then spits in his hand and strokes his cock until it's slick.

When he's ready, he kneels up behind him and takes a deep breath before lining the head of his cock up against the rookie's hole. 

"This better be what I was looking for, d'you hear me? If it turns out that you've been teasing me, leading me on, fucking _torturing_ me for nothing, you and your little boyfriend can rot in prison and I promise ya this, they won't be as gentle with you as I am."

"I'll make it good for you, Sir, I promise. You've been so good to me, you don't deserve what I put you through."

It's all Thompson needed to hear, if he's going to do this then it better be good. 

He pushes forward and the heat, the intense heat, it almost pushes him over the edge in an instant but he's nothing if not determined so he presses on. No, when he sets his mind to something, he doesn't let anything or anyone stop him. 

Callum wiggles his arse and makes the same high pitched needy noise he did when Thompson grazed his nipple putting on the wire. He sinks deeper into the forbidden, digging his nails into Callum's hips with one hand and gripping the sheets with the other. 

When he's down to the hilt he stops to rest, breathing hard and hoping for a moment of peace but Callum starts to rock his hips, fucking himself on Thompson's cock. The fucking gall, the insubordination, it should make him angry, he should throw him out or worse. But it feels too fucking good. 

He lets out an animal growl that he's been holding back and starts to fuck hard, the slap of skin on skin and their moans filling the room. 

Fuck, he's so fucking tight, he's the perfect lay. Won't fall in love, won't stay for breakfast, won't get tired or ask too many questions. He just wants and he wants and he wants and Thompson wants him too. 

He bites deep into the flesh of Callum's shoulder and he cries out like a wounded animal. 

"Try explaining that to your little boyfriend. Or does he know you're a fucking whore?"

Callum doesn't answer but Thompson reckons he can't speak anymore, so gone on his cock.

He gets up on his knees and holds onto the chain of the handcuffs as he pounds the rookie, the sight of his cock being eaten by that tight hole driving him wild as he thrusts. 

Beneath him, Callum writhes and twists, his legs and arms jerk uselessly as if his body keeps forgetting he's restrained but every time he remembers, a litany of obscenities falls from his lips. 

The soft cushion of his peachy arse makes fucking him feel like a dream, he could do this all night, if he wasn't close he could anyway. He doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him how good this is but he's going to realise soon enough. 

He uses the handcuff chain to lift Callum's arms up painfully to hold him still, forcing him deeper into submission then fucks him wild and hard, slamming his hips over and over into that perfect arse as Callum cries out, hoarse and broken, louder and louder. 

He lets go of the cuffs to fall over him, resting his face against his broad back, letting his hands roam everywhere. God, he wants to touch his cock, but what does that make him? As bad as Callum? No, as bad as that disgusting deviant Mitchell scum.

And yet he can't resist, he reaches under Callum's stomach and finds his cock wet and hard and as he wraps his fingers around it, Callum's cries turn to screams and he draws in close around him and fuck it feels amazing. He's going to cum inside him, the ultimate humiliation, he'll make him walk home with his hot cum leaking out of him. He'll make him--

  
Thompson wakes up to the familiar sound of his alarm and yet he can't place it. It doesn't fit with the scene still playing so vividly in his mind. 

He prods at it to snooze it and rubs his face. Fuck. He's so hard it hurts and his shorts are so soaked with precum that he has to hold onto the headboard with one hand as he pulls them off where they're stuck to keep himself from hitting the fucking ceiling. 

He hisses when he takes hold of his cock and returns to the image of Callum flat on his belly with his legs held apart and his hands cuffed behind his back as he strokes. It doesn't take long until he's coming hard with a yell loud enough to wake half the street long before his alarm blares again with its five minute warning. 

He lies in his own sweat and mess for a few minutes until his breathing returns to normal. Jesus fucking Christ. After all this if Callum doesn't give him Phil Mitchell's head on a fucking platter he's going to see to it that he suffers a fate worse than death. 

He gets ready for work with the radio on in the background the entire time to chase away thoughts of the rookie. He eats a huge breakfast, it was only a dream but he feels like he's been fucking all night and he's absolutely ravenous. When he opens the bin he's greeted with the sight of the bag containing the rookie's shorts and he stands for a moment, banana peel in hand as he tries to pretend he isn't about to fish them out for later. 

The drive to work is uneventful which is lucky because he can't seem to concentrate on the road. 

The station is bustling when he arrives even though it's early and there's a stack of paperwork already waiting for him. No rest for the wicked. He sits at his desk with his morning coffee, sipping it and pretending to read the first thing in front of him but he can't, he still can't think straight. 

Before he can decide against it, he sends a text. 

_I need you at the station, how quickly can you get here_

Callum appears within ten minutes, ever the dutiful little soldier, flushed red and in those skin tight jeans and a t-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. It occurs to him then that he must have run all the way and he can't help but smile. 

"You said you needed me, Sir?"

"I should remind you, Highway, that you're the one who needs me."

He swallows thickly. "Just.. your text…"

"What about it?" 

"Nothing." He looks down at the floor, defeated. 

"Oh no. I haven't interrupted a special morning with your _partner_ , have I?"

He looks devastated and covers it too late with a small, "Nah."

He thinks of Mitchell at home, pining away for his boyfriend who raced here to be with _him_ and can't hide the smile that forms on his face. 

He goes over to Callum and rubs his arm, ignoring the way he recoils at his touch. "Chin up, Highway, this'll all be over soon." He leans in close, close enough that his lips are brushing Callum's ear. "One way or another."

He strolls out of the room leaving Callum reeling and confused. Good. After what he did to him, he deserves all he gets and for the first time in a long time, he feels satisfied. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading x


End file.
